Someone Else's Fairytale
by 10millionpeople
Summary: Mr. Condor makes Sonny and Chad "fake" love for one for a few months another to raise audiences for the two shows. When things get out of hand, will they finally realize their REAL feelings, or will the "get publicity" set up crash and burn?


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A/N- So here it is! I'm super-excited about this, and I hope I can keep this one up (unlike my last one XD)! Review!

**Disclaimer- Really?**

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_**Someone Else's Fairytale**_

_**Chapter One**_

"What?" Both of us ask in unison. I can't believe this. I have to fake love for... Sonny? For publicity, so only when reporters and paparazzi are around. Hmm. Shouldn't be too hard. Unless I get used to "dating" her... which shouldn't happen. I'm Chad Dylan Cooper for heaven's sake; I do one-date flings, not long term relationships.

God, Hollywood can be cruel.

"Um, Mr. Condor, what happens then? Do we keep this up forever, or break it off slowly, or... what?" I ask, my tone generating an atmosphere of annoyance in the already tense room.

Mr. Condor ponders this. "Two months _at the least. _Then you two can decide." Two months? This'll _ruin_ my much earned reputation. But Condor will kill me if he knows that. So on the outside, my mouth gapes open as a mirror to Sonny's shocked expression.

"Two whole months? Or longer? Faking love for... _her_?"

She scoffs. "Well, it's not going to be easy on my part! I mean, does it have to be you? Really?" Her voice betrays the slightest hint of sarcasm, and I fix my upcoming sentence to be laced with it as well.

I smirk. "Yes. Me. Really." She rolls her eyes. I've noticed she's been doing that a lot.

Smirking again at no one in particular, I decide to drop the arguments and have a little fun with this. Maybe she'll play along.

"Sonny, Sonny, Sonny..." I walk over and put my arm around her shoulders. "Of _course _this will be fun! Now, who's my little Sonshine?" I ask her playfully, kissing her forehead and pulling her into a sugar-coated embrace.

She giggles, but I can tell she's trying just a little too hard. Those people over at Chuckle City have _no idea_ how to act. "I am, Chaddykins!" She replies artificially, playing with the ends of my hair. Maybe I could get used to this. Maybe...

Mr. Condor chuckles and claps. "I _knew _you two were good actors"—I cringe when he says that last word—"but this is phenomenal! Keep it up- the press will be _all over _this!"

Sonny and I pull away, and I wink at her, but she rolls her eyes, obviously ending our little game. Mr. Condor leaves us with a, "Remember- the more lovey-dovey, the more publicity!"

I swiftly walk to my dressing room while Sonny strides in the other direction, and I have a mental debate about whether or not it's... _right, _for lack of a better word, to be "faking" love like this. It's almost like you're making fun of the concept of a relationship, by throwing it out there for all the public to witness, just so that it can be photographed and recorded and viewed and written about and interviewed and... _seen_.

Half of me wants to think that, but the other half is screaming that it's _fine, _good, peaches and crème. We're doing it for Mr. Condor, and what he says goes. I just don't think I can accept that, though. God, it hurts to be divided.

I shake my head, and hit it once for good measure. _Where did all that profound stuff come from? _I'm used to the shallow Chad that you can see right through- the CDC that's ankle-deep, and that's about it. Man, I'm out of it today.

I throw myself down on the giant, fluffy bed and sigh. I wonder what's running through her mind after all of this... I mean, it _is _a lot for one person to take in. We've just been told that we have to start, tomorrow, and act like we're dating. No more "good, fine" arguments and no more making fun of the Randoms. It's like we're changing from mortal enemies to lovebirds overnight. That doesn't happen... does it?

Taking my iPod out of the bedside table drawer, I cut it on and unlock it, my fingers moving swiftly across the touch-screen surface. I put the device on shuffle, and stiffen up when I hear the opening riffs to Secondhand Serenade.

_The best thing about tonight's that we're not fighting._

Of course. This song _would _be the first one to come up after the whole "Channy" (as Mr. Condor says the fans like to call us) talk.

_Could it be that we have been this way before?_

_I know you don't think that I am trying; I know you're wearing thin down to the core._

I unlock the iPod again and cut it to the next song, then mentally curse myself for having so many sappy love songs downloaded. I don't know why they're on here- it's not like they... remind me of anyone... do they?

_She's independent and beautiful; I wish I could be like her._

Why do I even have this on my iPod? It's a chick song. And Chad Dylan Cooper does _not_ do chick songs. But, I don't feel like changing it again, so I let it play, embracing the fact that it's like a 3 minute song and will be over shortly.

Suddenly, I hear a knock on my dressing room door. Pulling one ear bud out, I yell, "Come in!" figuring it's Portlyn or Skylar wanting to know what Mr. Condor wanted. As if they care.

Much to my surprise, a familiar brunette steps into my room, her dark hair clashing with all the sky blue decorations and patterns in the dressing room. If I was feeling like myself right now, I would tell her that before showing her the door and asking her to go back to Chuckle City and get some acting lessons, but I don't.

"Wow, Chad... it's all blue."

The music still plays loudly in my ear, but I can hear her voice through the one open ear. Joy Williams is singing something about two opposites falling in love, and how they're so different on the inside than what they seem and... God.

I can't think clearly all of a sudden. My vision swims, and it isn't until "All the Right Moves" comes up on my iPod that I breathe again and open my eyes, only to find Sonny right in front of me, snapping in my face.

I scrunch up my nose and lie back down on the bed. "Yeah... it's blue," I say, my voice lacking enthusiasm.

She sits on the side of the bed, facing me. "No, I said what do you think of Mr. Condor's assignment?" I flop my head over and pause my music, then set the electronic on the side table.

"I don't know. I think it'll be interesting..." I say, my voice trailing off on the last word.

She sighs. "I think it's pushing the boundaries a little."

I give her a confused look from the mattress. "Boundaries of what?"

She starts to say something, and then pauses. "I don't know, really... of feelings, or love. Don't you think that's stretching it a little? By faking it?" She turns to look at me, and I see something that resembles anxiety flash across her eyes, but it is swept away by the time she's done speaking.

"I was thinking that. But what about the fake date? Wasn't that the same thing?" I know it wasn't because that was for a shorter time and wasn't public, but maybe this will calm her doubts.

"Well, not really... I mean, I guess, but the press weren't involved then." She speaks slowly, and I can tell this is really hurting her. It's probably not helping that she's sitting up and I'm sprawled out lying down on the bed, but I'm not moving.

I smile softly and touch her arm. May as well start practicing being a couple now. "Hey..." She looks at me, her eyes questioning every word that pops out of my mouth. "Come here." I pull on her arm a little, and she reluctantly lies down on the bed. I wrap one arm around her waist, and she snuggles into my chest.

Her breath comes out catchy and uneven, and I tighten my grasp around her just a little, and push my other arm under her as she curls into a very loose ball. Maybe this whole "fake love" thing won't be too bad after all.

"You know," she says into me, "the paparazzi aren't watching now." It should have been taken as a joke, if her tone wasn't so heartbreaking. Wait- what am I saying? CDC does _not_ do sympathy. But, whatever. I may as well get used to caring about her... or, rather, get used to _accepting_ that I care about her.

I sigh. "I know. May as well start being a 'couple'"—I emphasize the word, because my hands are a little tied up and I can't form air quotes—"now." She giggles softly, and burrows down deeper in the soft bed, her head in the crook of my shoulder, her face in my chest.

"Thank you, Chad..." she says, and trails off. "Can I ask you something?" I close my eyes and rest my head on top of hers.

"Sure; what is it?"

She pauses for a yawn. "You do care about me... right?" Her voice seems strained and low, and I know for a fact if I was looking at her, her eyes would be clouded over.

I huff, and kiss the top of her forehead. May as well go ahead and accept it. I, Chad Dylan Cooper, the greatest actor of our generation, am insanely and completely in love with Allison Amelia Munroe. But I could never tell her that. I could never tell _anyone _that.

"Yeah... yeah, I do. I'm sorry if it seems I don't sometimes." There. I said it. It's not half what I feel, but it's a start.

Let's face it- _I'm whipped._

I can feel her smile into me. Suddenly, her breathing becomes even and she relaxes on the comforter. All I can think about is _sleepsleepsleep _so I let myself do the same, and slowly fade as I snake my arm closer around Sonny and try to prepare myself for tomorrow.

* * *

"CHAD DYLAN COOPER WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I jolt awake, and jerk my body straight up, only remembering the perky brunette after my arm catches from under her body.

"Ow..." _Crap. _She doesn't wake up, and I wonder how in heck that high-pitched, recognizable voice of my co-star didn't wake her.

"Chad, what's going on here?" Portlyn screeches at me, and I check the bedside clock. 1:36. Which means Sonny and I were sleeping since around ten... and we slept through lunch.

I run a hand through my hair. "Port"—she loves it when I call her that—"listen. You didn't hear what Mr. Condor told us this morning! You don't know what we have to do!" My voice rises, and I can feel Sonny become restless beside me. Man that girl is a heavy sleeper.

"Then what is this _shocking_ news?" Sarcasm laces through her voice as she puts both hands on her hips and cocks her head at me. Oh it's _on. _No one cops an attitude on Chad Dylan Cooper.

I smirk at her, but before I have time to say anything Sonny rises up and wipes her eyes, and jumps when she sees me right in front of her. Portlyn snickers, but it's more playful than anything else.

I growl out what I hope is at least a half audible sentence. "He told us we, _Sonny Munroe and Chad Dylan Cooper, _have to be a couple for _publicity._ Got it? The presses are _soaking_ up our story, so we have to play boyfriend/girlfriend for _at least _two months. Now do you understand?" My voice drips with sarcasm, and Sonny stands up, with me doing the same. Portlyn backs up a few steps.

She chuckles, but I can hear the uneasiness in her voice. Chad Dylan Cooper reads people like a book. "Oh... so all that was phony?" I nod, and Sonny chips in. _Good for her, _my cynical thoughts scream.

"Yeah, but we didn't mean to fall asleep!" She tries to laugh, but it comes out stifled and jittery. "Well, I better get back to _So Random! _See ya... guys..." And with that she hurries out the door, leaving me and Portlyn in my dressing room with _a lot _of unanswered questions that I would prefer to leave that way.

She scowls at me, and luckily Portlyn is about the same as Blondie over at Chuckle City... but Port here is my friend. She'll keep this to herself, if I ask her to.

I smile, and lean closer to her. _Time to turn on that CDC charm... _"You're not going to tell anyone... right, Port?" Her expression remains a little cold, and for a moment my heart stops, in fear of her telling the whole cast we "woke up" together without them knowing the full story.

In a matter of seconds, though, her facial features soften, and she ruffles my hair. I shoot her a disapproving glare as she does this, but she doesn't notice. "I won't tell anyone, Chaddy..." She skips out of my dressing room, and I know for a fact this time tomorrow everyone in the entire Condor Studios is going to know that Sonny and I are "dating".

Oh, well. I may as well get used to it... because this time next week, pictures of us together going to be _everywhere._ The paparazzi will stalk us at each and every corner, trying to get a halfway decent picture so they can keep bread on the table. We'll have _no _privacy. And it's all what Mr. Condor wants. So maybe I'll learn to live with it.

I shrug to no one in particular, yawn, and head out the door to see what I missed while I was napping. After all, even the gorgeous Chad Dylan Cooper needs his beauty sleep.

...or that's what I'm going to tell people.

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**A/N- I know, I hate the ending. But what do you think? OOH, what to tell me? I'd reallyyyy appreciate it... (;**

**{Catherine}**

**Xx **


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